Foolish Pride
by iNxC0NCERTx2010
Summary: Songfic: Can't Be Really Gone / Tim McGraw


**Can't Be Really Gone  
><strong>Tim McGraw

"You know what? Maybe you should have the whole garage to yourself and I should get an apartment where no one cares _where _I leave the toaster!" The first cracks had appeared in their relationship months ago. Their life together should have been getting better, but it wasn't. Each fight had only increased tensions, and this morning was no different.

Brock and Reba had gotten into a fight. What was the cause, an affair, lost love? No. It was the toaster. Brock had forgotten to place the toaster back under the counter, which was the result of the current shouting match between them.

"Well maybe you should!" She yelled the words at him without control. She was angry; they were both bound to say things they didn't mean. The words were coming out sooner than expected though.

"Really?" Brock stared at his wife in disbelief. Did she actually agree with his idea to move out? He had just said it as an angry attempt to hurt her, but if these were her true feelings, he should probably just go.

"Is that what you want?" She stared back at her husband nervously. What was she saying? She didn't want him to move out! She knew if he stayed they could work things out. She knew they could. But this argument seemed to escalate, with no end in sight. Reba stood still, afraid that one move could be the one that sent them tumbling down the cliff.

"All I know is this isn't working anymore." Brock threw his hands up in defeat. This time, he did mean what he said, they weren't working. He used to think that love was all they needed to survive, but lately, he wasn't sure if either of them had enough.

"So what are you talking about?" she asked the question, but was she truly ready to hear the answer? She braced herself, hoping that Brock would take his words back, hoping that he would apologize and erase the whole argument, she hoped…

"I'm talking about taking a break. I mean, I think we can use a little time apart." A break? No, a break was dangerous. A break led to a separation, and a separation led to div—she couldn't even muster the word. Hearing the words shot up her guard. She did was Reba does best, hid behind anger.

"Fine, Go!"

"Reba—" he knew what was happening. She was scared. She didn't want things to end like this, but she also didn't want to show her vulnerability, so she turned to an old habit, and hid behind her anger.

"No, go! Let me tell you this Brock, if you walk through that door, it may not be open when you want to come back." The words cut like a knife to the both of them, but neither one was willing to back down. Foolish pride was getting in the way, yet again.

As if on command, Brock headed for the door. His feet were no longer a part of him, they were walking out on the only woman he had ever loved, and he couldn't stop them. "I'll start looking for another place."

_**Her hat is hanging by the door  
>The one she bought in Mexico<br>It blocked the wind, it stopped the rain**_

__Reba stared at the wall, remembering the day as vividly as if it had happened yesterday. She and Brock had gotten into the 'toaster argument' over a week ago. She knew he hadn't truly left though. His golf clubs were still in the bedroom, and he was too cheap to stay in a local hotel.

He would be back.

She looked around her bedroom once again. Her eyes were heavy, but she refused to welcome sleep. She couldn't sleep until Brock returned, which she knew would be soon. She sat up in her bed, hearing commotion, and smiled. She mentally applauded herself for she was right, he was home.

Her excitement, however, was crushed when she realized the commotion was only coming from her seventeen year old daughter, Cheyenne, who was returning home from a party she had attended.

She turned her gaze to the window. It was pitch black outside, but with the light of the moon she could see rain falling down. Lightning struck and thunder roared as she focused on anything, anything that could keep her mind from Brock.

It was no use though; her mind kept wandering to him. Where was he? Hopefully he was safe. He wouldn't be outside in this horrendous storm.

Her thoughts were a burden to her brain. She heard one last roll of thunder before sleep finally overtook her weary body. __

She'd never leave that one  
>So she can't be really gone<p>

__  
>Reba groaned as her alarm clock sounded loudly. Last night was the first night in over a week that she had slept soundly through the night, and that scared her. She was learning to fall asleep without the return of her husband. Subconsciously, she must have been learning to accept his absence, which unsettled her.<p>

Shutting the alarm off, she rolled out of bed and headed to the kitchen. She knew _someone _had to make breakfast for the children. She stopped before she got to the kitchen. She looked around slowly, admiring the house that she and Brock had worked so hard to afford.

She continued on into the kitchen, getting the pancake batter from the cabinet, and continued to make breakfast for her children. She placed the pancakes on the table, calling for her kids to come to the breakfast table.

Like a stampede, she heard the footsteps of the three hungry kids rush into the kitchen. She watched from behind the island as they scared down their breakfast in a hurry, she laughed silently.

"I'm done!" they all exclaimed at once. Cheyenne was the first to leave the table, placing the dirty dishes in the sink; she led her younger sister and brother out the door for school.

After washing the dirty breakfast dishes, Reba made her way to the living room. She looked around. To any houseguest it would appear that Brock had taken a business trip, and he would come walking through the door. All his belongings were still in their rightful places.

Nothing had moved. Even the kids suspected he would return home at any moment.

Reba turned to the door, something had caught her eye. It was a pair of Brock's golf shoes. She had bought them for him on Christmas Eve years ago. They were his favorite. He could never play a round of golf without them. She smiled; there was no way he would survive without them. He swore they were his good luck charm, because they were a gift from her. He hadn't truly left; he would not leave without his lucky golf shoes.  
><em><strong><br>The shoes she bought on Christmas Eve  
>She laughed and said they called her name<br>It's like they're waiting in the hall  
>For her to slip them on<br>So she can't be really gone**_

__Reba wasn't one to be direct, but she felt this was something she needed to do. She stared at the phone for a few more minutes, trying to make up her mind. She had to call him.

Carefully, she picked up the phone and dialed the number she had memorized. She waited nervously on the line as the ringing of the phone filled her ear.

* * *

><p>Across town, Brock was in his dental office. He had just finished up with the final patient before lunch. He walked into his office, only to hear the ringing of his phone fill the silence. He rushed over to the desk only to find that he had missed the call. His heart fell when he saw who the call was from. It was from Reba.<p>

_**I don't know when she'll come back  
>She must intend to come back<strong>_

Reba sighed when the rings turned to the answering machine. She placed the phone gently back on the end table. She could understand if he did not want to talk to her. She should have let it go. She should not have said anything about the toaster, but she couldn't just _let it go. _She wanted everything to be in order, she wanted to keep control. Ironically enough, her need for control, had left her in a downward spiral, fighting to hang on.

She exhaled shakily, knowing if she didn't control her thoughts, she would surely break down soon. She stared at the door, knowing Brock would burst through it any minute now. She sighed when nothing changed. She glanced at the clock, seeing she had stared at the door for over an hour. She let a lone tear fall down her face as she looked at the door in disappointment and retreated to her room for the day. __

_**And I've seen the error of my ways**_  
><em><strong>Don't waste the tears on me<strong>_  
><em><strong>What more proof do you need<strong>_  
><em><strong>Just look around the room<strong>_  
><em><strong>So much of her remains<strong>_

__She immediately regretted her retreat to her bedroom, as even more of Brock had been left untouched in their bedroom. His golf magazines were scattered about the room; an unfinished book lied on his nightstand. The photos, the memories, everything taunted her. It all gave her more hope that he would return home.

He wouldn't really leave these memories behind him would he? The arguments were unbearable, but their love had been so strong. Could he really forget the love that they shared? They had spent 20 years together, there had to be something from the past that would lead him to return home, right?

She grinned hopefully at the wedding picture that sat on the dresser. They loved each other, and at the end of the day, that was enough, she hoped.

_**Her book is lying on the bed  
>The two of hearts to mark her page<br>Now who could ever walk away at chapter 21  
>So she can't be really gone<strong>_

__Brock stared at the phone, contemplating whether or not he should return the missed call. She called him; maybe he should just wait for her to call again. He sighed, accepting his own explanation. Quickly, he ate his lunch, and returned to work, losing his thoughts in the rush of his clients. After the last patient had left, he returned to his office to collect his things and leave.

As he was putting his paperwork back into the filing cabinet, his phone, once again, caught his eye. He saw that there were no other missed calls. If Reba was going to call him again, she surely would have done it by now. He glanced sadly at the picture of him and Reba on his desk. He shook his head before turning out the light and heading out.

There was too much of Brock left in their home, and too much him left in her heart.

_**Just look around this room  
>So much of her remains<strong>_

__It was now ten o'clock and Reba was staring at the phone, again. She wanted to call him. She wanted to hear his voice. Picking up the phone, she didn't hesitate this time. She smiled when she didn't get the answering machine.

"Hello?" it was obvious that he had not been sleeping, which gave her hope that he had trouble sleeping since he had left.

"Hi, it's me." She said nervously.

"Hey." He said filling the awkward silence. He had no idea what to say at a time like this.

"So, uhm, are you going to come back?" she got straight to the point. There was no use in beating around the bush this time.

"Probably not, we both no there is no way to fix what has happened to us." Brock's heart broke hearing her breath hitch. Why had he said that? Of course he wanted to come home. This was just another example of his stupidity. Why did he always hurt the woman he loved?

"Oh," she said trying to hold back the tears. "Goodnight." She ended the call and the dam broke. The tears that she had been holding back for over a week came pouring down in a rush. Her marriage was over and there was nothing she could do about it.

She turned off the light and sobbed. In the morning she would put on a brave face for the kids, but tonight, she needed to be weak.

The same thoughts ran through their head. _I love you so. _Both of them were too stubborn to admit their feelings, but to selfish to let go.

"I'll always love you Brock, even if your feelings for me have passed." Her words were lost in the darkness as she cried herself to sleep.

"I will love you forever, Reba, until the day that I die. If you are happier on your own, I will not stand in the way of your happiness." Brock spoke to the picture in his wallet before placing it on the night table beside him and drifting off to sleep.

_**Her book is lying on the bed  
>The two of hearts to mark her page<br>Now who could ever walk away  
>with so much left undone<br>So she can't be really gone  
>No she can't be really gone <strong>_

* * *

><p><strong>Hello everyone. i am sorry this has taken so long. i havent exactly been writing a whole lot. here is another songfic. (: i am working on another to the song what can i say by carrie underwood. Please review ! thank you ! xo<br>oh, and ps, i know i didnt exactly stick to the song on this one. i took a more loose interpretation. i dont know how much i like this story, so please just tell me what you think (:**


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